How did we get here?

Robert MacCawdor, now the confident Director of Planning, having rid himself of those pesky lieutenants: the “rower”, the “techie”,  and “teflon man”, and having surrounded himself with his ever-faithful adjutant, Lady M, and his “eyes and ears,” the three watchers, felt quite at home in his large comfortable chair looking out of the executive floor office’s picture window at the rowers practising on the river in the soft early morning light.

The Commander was happy. Lady M was delivering the strategy and financial plan. His PA, May, the “poisoner”, and his “special projects” duo – the “thief” and “noddy”, known collectively as the three watchers, kept an eye on the first floor people. And that irritable Director of Development, Sue, was so busy she did not have the time to delve too deeply into his Planning Department’s murky affairs.

There was just one problem that preyed on MacCawdor’s suspicious mind – that annoying little intern, the “team-builder” as she was referred to in derogatory terms. What did she know? Who had she been seeing? What did she tell them? Despite his carefully woven network of surveillance, he did not know. Time to act. The merger, meanwhile, exacerbated the general atmosphere of menace, fear and relentless pace.

Closing In for the Kill

The hunting pack was in a frenzy. May had seen the rower – Alex McLeod, the ousted Head of Financial Investment Programmes and Performance Management. He was spotted on St. Angela’s campus at the rowing club. What was he doing there? Who was he seeing? What were they talking about? May convened an urgent meeting of her fellow conspirators. Horror! Over tea, they speculated, and then believed, that the intern was seen there too. MacCawdor was incandescent with rage when the three reported their findings. In consultation with Lady M, he decided the intern had to go.

He summoned Sue to send the “team-builder” for a meeting. On entering his executive floor office, the intern saw, through that large picture window, the rowers pulling on their oars, seemingly effortlessly, churning the calm river as they did so. Despite the warm sunshine glinting off the river, the temperature in MacCawdor’s office was cold, very cold. He was menacing and threatening – ‘there is no place for you here’, he said. The potty-mouthed Lady M then laid into the intern: ‘there are “concerns” about your work, it’s very amateurish’, she said. They concluded, with intense rage and contempt, that a note to Sue recommending contract termination would follow.

And so it was, the Knifing was complete. The intern would no longer be a problem. MacCawdor and his hunting pack could get on with the impending merger.

Time to Go

Drip, drip, drip. Looking back on my younger self, I felt fear. Sue did not renew any of the interns’ contracts. The merger was in full flight and St. Angela’s was shedding staff. The atmosphere was frenetic, feverish, and tense, with cabals of people gathering in corridors, at the tea stations, and in the car parks, to share intelligence of the latest going ons. Who was “up” and who was “down.”

In this sorry atmosphere, I was, for the first time in my life, not very busy. There is nothing to do when you are a nothing and you are leaving. You become invisible. In my last few days at St. Angela’s, people popped in to say goodbye and ask if they could have my filing cabinet, or my chair and desk, or my white board. No-one was interested in the computer, or what it contained. I was instructed on my last day to put my files in the skip – a common occurrence during a merger. You see them dotted about all over the place: in the car parks, at the back of the hospital, and even in the corridors. They are there to expunge any memory that might have existed of what had been. Hence, post-merger, there is no organisational memory.

And of that illegal financial transfer – did I spill the beans? Was I brave enough to be a whistle-blower? Did I finger MacCawdor?  No; I was beaten. I had run out of steam, and I kept the rule of Omertà.

The Rise of “Little People”

Some of the “Little People” at St. Angela’s were the invisible worker drones on the first floor that propped-up Lady M, the three watchers, and MacCawdor. They were part of the forgotten army of boring ‘grey’ people who keep enterprises going, especially in a merger. They see everything, and say nothing. But, once in a while, they find their voice, and they can strike like a thunderbolt.

Helen, their self-appointed leader, came to see me on my last day. She had been the rower’s faithful long-standing deputy, and she was most aggrieved when Lady M took over. She was smart, and she kept her powder dry. “We don’t like him, or her; and we know,” she said. “We’ve got your back; we’re in touch with Alex (the rower); and we’ve got counter-measures.” And with that, she gave me a bunch of flowers as a leaving present and went on her way.

The first floor little people struck back. They called-out the three watchers – there was no further cooperation, information or submission of diaries for checking. The “thief” and “noddy” were isolated, they could not function. Lady M was cornered and viewed as incompetent as Helen and the little people refused to work for her. They started their own whispering campaign – a potentially fatal action in a merger. MacCawdor’s grip on power weakened through Helen’s actions. And the fatal blow came when the Commander announced he was retiring, as a result of the merger, and handing over to a new chief executive.

Is there Justice? 

It was some years later that I returned to St. Angela’s as a wiser and more experienced “team-builder”. On leaving that internship, I went back to the Prof and studied psychopaths, organisational politics, and game-playing further. Sue was still there, having survived the merger, and she was ever-busy running down corridors with her papers and rictus smile which clearly sent the signal “Later.”

The “rower” returned and replaced MacCawdor who did not survive the post-merger appointment process and the new chief executive. The rower kept rowing and socialised, as ever, with his rowing pals in St. Angela’s clubhouse; and Helen, his faithful deputy, served him as before and kept the first floor little people in order.

And as for Lady M, she was too stressed by it all, especially when MacCawdor got hauled-up for that financial transgression. Helen had spilt the beans. She and the little people did what I could not do. MacCawdor and Lady M both went on long-term sick leave. Stress-a very useful device to escape such circumstances.

And of the three watchers that had made my life so miserable? May was assigned to the general secretarial pool after the merger as the rower, Alex, would have nothing to do with her. “Noddy” decided to spend more time with her family, and the “thief” got another job where her kleptomaniac tendencies caught up with her. She got sacked.

On leaving St. Angela’s, I did not follow the tradition of breaking the equipment or sabotaging the computer system. Instead, I went to that skip and got my computer disks out as I felt they might come in handy at some stage. I put my unopened post of 12 weeks back into the internal post for onward circulation. And I went to the prohibited interns leaving party which Helen had organised for us and her band of little people.

Is there justice?  Yes, of sorts, for now…

Come back next time for another story of power and politics — a case of team-building and succession planning gone wrong in the vein of King Lear.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.